


Poison

by emphatichearts



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Thor: The Dark World Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-03
Updated: 2015-01-06
Packaged: 2018-02-23 23:16:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2559386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emphatichearts/pseuds/emphatichearts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Sometimes a single alteration in action can change everything.</i><br/>AU in which, instead of Jane, Darcy is the one to absorb the Aether.<br/>Darcy never expected a creepy dark magic power pew pew thing to enter her body (without her consent, mind); that always seemed like a more Jane thing to her. But when the realms align in that certain way, Darcy is swept up to Asgard as the awkward duck that follows everyone around the entire time. And after the discovery of the Dark Elves' awakening, Darcy is now the center of attention (which she only minds a little bit), and she is forced to work with and trust Loki, attempted destroyer of Earth. This could mean nothing but bad. Especially with the way Loki looked at her, like a predator stalking its prey, and the way Darcy's stomach fluttered every time he bared his teeth in a deadly smile, and the way the God of Mischief seemed to have a malicious interest in her. Is any of this annoying heteronormality really malicious, though? Well, probably.<br/>Because the longer she's around Loki, Darcy realises that the poison killing her is not inside of her, but inside of him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prelude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a bit rusty with my writing, but I guess the idea inspired me enough to get me back into writing. I hope my writing is okey dokey. I've a feeling that the story is a bit draggy and all, but I'll try my best to keep it short and sweet. I made very sure that the storyline follows that of Thor: The Dark World, so you might feel familiar with some of the earlier dialogue, maybe even be bored out of your mind from it. In this first chapter, you can easily skip the entire second part of it (from the first asterisk marking to the second), because that's basically just the restaurant scene and car scene explained in excruciatingly excruciating detail. You wouldn't be missing much as long as you've watched the movie, so ye. Nothing's been changed there yet. Er, um, so, er, have fun?

It begins, as always, in darkness.

 

Darcy Lewis’ face is visible only by the light blaring at her eyes from her laptop, contrasting the dark room that she sits in. She slams her hand on the off button of her alarm with lightning speed; only two beeps in. _7am. Another day, another eight hours of putting up with Jane’s broken-ass heart._ It isn’t even work for Darcy, really. She only comes over to the lab for company and for something to do, and even though it thoroughly annoys her almost to breaking point, Darcy feels that it is her duty to see Jane every day and at least try to cheer Jane up a little with sarcastic remarks and bad puns.

Yawning, Darcy shakes off the woollen blanket roughly draped over her head and stretches her arms, leaning back over the chair that was her home for the past, what, nine hours? She lets out an unintelligible moose-like moan. She is nineteen minutes into the fifth episode of the eighth season of Supernatural, and it destroys her to realise that watching the rest was not an option.

She closes the nine tabs in her browser, only just realising how ridiculous they all are. But then again, it is seven o’ clock in the morning and she hasn’t had any sleep since her nap at six. Yesterday afternoon. _Tumblr tab, Tumblr tab, a blog dedicated to Captain America’s holy booty, a Youtube video teaching viewers how to make a scrumptious glazed turkey, dashing black man holding dangerously large dorito tab, a few tabs downloading a Led Zeppelin song..._ Darcy wonders how the ‘quick search’ on how to make chocolate pudding had turned to this.

But it is to no surprise, really. She seems to have fallen into this sort of routine since moving to London with Jane and Erik. And since… _the thing_ happened. Huh. Darcy realises that Jane’s constant avoidance on the subject has turned her the same way. ‘The Thing.’ _So vague. So mysterious._ Darcy finds this funny. She proves this by laughing into the cold silence of the dining room.

“Oh, God—or gods—this sleep deprivation is ruining my humour gland.” She deduces, reaching for her TARDIS cup. Disappointed by the bigger-on-the-inside emptiness of the blue mug, Darcy stands up, with much difficulty. Her legs feel like jelly, and she practically wobbles over to the kitchen.

“Break…fast…” The twenty-two-year-old woman murmurs, checking each cupboard for edible food. Finding nothing, she plans on lowering her standards, but before doing so, she takes a glance at her watch, which glows in the dark.

It glows a neon green, which Darcy likes. It reads ten past seven, which Darcy does not like.

*****

Darcy pushes open the door of the red hatchback, somewhat upset. She is supposed to be having lunch, or even dinner at this time of day. She hasn’t even had _breakfast_ yet. She sighs as she dismounts the car. “Ox-O Brassa-bee, Ox-O Brassa-bee,” she chants under her breath, creating visible puffs of water vapour in the winter air. Stowing her ice-cold hands into the pockets of her jacket, she makes her way away from the parked vehicle and onto the pavement.

Adjusting the woollen hat on her head, she scans the fancy letters on each of the buildings that she passes. “Ox-o Brassa-bee, Ox-o Brassa-bee, Ox-o Brassa—woah,” Darcy halts at the sight of the enormous brick building, almost falling off of the dock that holds the only space between the hell-of-a-restaurant and the stretch of sea that sways behind her.

A tower set on top of the construction reads, vertically, the letters “OXO”. Darcy stares at this for a moment, before shrugging and striding through the wide open door. Parading through the hallways, she makes a brave attempt to pretend that her shabby weathered scarf and un-dry-cleaned coat is meant to belong in a place like OXO Brasserie.

It takes eleven minutes and eleven minutes too long for the intern to find her astrophysicist employer, apparently dining with some dude at one of the tables in the glass-walled restaurant on the top floor of OXO. He seems to be making some boring small talk, so she decides that it is safe to strut over casually. She earned the strut-in-without-warning ticket in those eleven frustrating minutes. She stands and waits for a reaction.

“Hi, um, could we get some wine, please?” He says in an Irish accent. She forces herself not to laugh. _He thinks I’m a waitress. What a cheeseball._ Darcy grins. “Sure, I’d love some,” she jokes. Jane, who had been on the fence about acknowledging her relationship with Darcy since the new arrival’s entrance, puts her hands together, sucking in some air through her teeth. But still, Darcy sees that Jane is somehow looking calmer than she was before the interruption. Jane closes her eyes for a second. “Richard, this is Darcy,” she introduces, giving in.

Darcy surveys the ‘Richard’ dude. _Irish guy. Kinda cute._ Not bad, she ponders to herself. She makes an obvious thumbs-up to Jane and mouths the word ‘sweet’. Jane ignores the gesture, trying her ‘this thing was all a terrible idea so I’ll just pretend it’s not happening for a moment’ tactic, though fully knowing that her date had already spotted Darcy’s conspicuous approval. “What’re you doing here?” Jane says after a moment of steadying silence. Darcy pulls herself a chair, loudly, welcoming herself to the table.

 _Oh my Odin, there’s food. Thank the gods of Assgard._ The young adult grabs herself a bread roll and a knife, and begins to butter up the bread, making up for that breakfast she’d missed. “Oh, hello.” Richard says in reaction to Darcy’s sudden official third-wheeling. _“So,”_ the intern of the astrophysicist begins while munching on her toast.

“I show up for work at the lab-slash-your-mum’s-house, fully expecting you to be moping around in your pyjamas eating ice cream and obsessing about—” she clears her throat, knowing that even the mention of his name will cause Jane to start bawling again, “—you-know-who…but you’re not! You’re wearing lady clothes! You even showered didn’t you?” Darcy takes a quick sniff. “You smell good.”

Darcy’s free sharing of Jane’s embarrassing routine for the past two years in front of her date finally seems to make Jane the slightest bit annoyed; “Is there a point to all of this? Because there _really_ needs to be a point to all of this.” Darcy nods, still chomping on her food. “Right. You know all that scientific equipment you don’t look at anymore?”

She reaches into her pocket, takes out one of Jane’s science space detector flashy thingies and passes it to her boss. The weird little graphs and the light in the top-right corner are flashing, which had spiked the little concern that Darcy had for science. “You might want to start looking at it again. This is the reason we came all the way out here.”

“It’s malfunctioning,” Jane assures, though there is concern etched on her face as she studies the patterns and long sciency language. “That’s what I said.” Darcy retorts with a roll of her eyes. Jane knits her eyebrows and thumps the flashy thing on the restaurant table a few times.

“That’s what I did!” The gatecrasher exclaims, holding her hands out in a shrug. “I thought you would do something a little more scientific.” She adds, still chewing on her meal. The scientist casts a quick glance to her date before hastily returning the device to her intern. “I’m sure it’s nothing,” she tells Richard, trying to laugh the matter off.

“Doesn’t look like nothing. Kinda looks like the readings that Erik was rambling about.” Darcy suggests. Then, turning to Richard, she explains, “Our friend Erik kinda went bananaballs.” Darcy stops. _‘Bananaballs?’ Really? I should’ve said something snappier,_ Darcy thinks to herself, grimacing quietly.

“He’s not interested. I’m not interested. Time for you to go now.” Jane says quickly, trying to casually point to the exit. Jane is trying to distract herself from _him_. Darcy knows it. _But I’m not just going to leave Jane with this dude while science is at work! Darcy thinks in inner outrage, Wait, no…that was way too ‘Jane’. Science is stupid. Whatever._

But in the time that it takes for Darcy to start to panic about Jane not doing the science stuff that she is meant to be doing, Darcy also remembers that there is nothing on earth, or in all of the whatever-number-of-realms-there-are realms that could stop Jane from working her science.

She turns to Richard, and back to Jane. “Okay,” she says finally, smiling as she gets up, pulling her chair, loudly, back to its original setting. Darcy turns away and walks slowly in the opposite direction of the awkward first-date couple. “Short but sweet,” _she can hear Richard say as she leaves. Hey, I’m not short!_ “She needs help.” Jane responds, shifting in her seat. _No I don’t! I’m awesome and completely sane, like, twelve per cent of the time._

Darcy sighs as she finds herself sitting in the hatchback once again, now with a donut that she’d found in the back seat pocket. _If Jane doesn’t come out after I finish this thing, we’re leaving_. But sure enough, as Darcy is pulling a piece of the donut from the packet with her teeth, she hears the passenger seat door being opened and the weight in the car being evened out.

“ _Annnd_ , I hate you.” Jane grumbles. “What? I said he was cute!” Darcy replies, smirking, with sarcastic oblivion. “Just shut up and drive.” The shotgun groans. Darcy grins as she starts the engine and begins to drive out of the parking spot.

“So I did a little homework, and I figured out exactly where those little thingamajigs were. Turns out it’s some big storage land mass that’s only a little off from that place we got lost at on our way to the local diner that was three feet away from the apartment.” Darcy explains as they enter a bridge.

“That’s good, Darcy,” Jane says absently, looking out of the window. Darcy opens her mouth to say “Jane! Come on! Science! Get excited!” But before she can even begin, a voice from the back goes, “You need to take the next left.

Jane jumps up, gasping. “Who’s he?” She asks, her back pressed against her seat. Darcy sighs silently. “He’s my intern,” she replies casually. Jane relaxes, then turns to the driver with knitted eyebrows, “You have an intern?” Darcy looks at Jane, “Oh. Yeah,” she shrugs.

The intern’s intern leans out of his seat and timidly speaks, “H-hello, Doctor Foster. It’s a great honour to be working with you.” Jane blinks. “Right. I have to call Erik.” She reaches into her pocket and takes out her phone. “Oh, take a right.” The backseater says, looking at his GPS. Darcy makes a sharp, screeching turn right. “And a left.” She swerves right into a small lane.

“I have _totally_ mastered driving in London.” She smiles, holding the wheel with pride. The faint sound of the call being sent to voicemail can be heard within the hatchback. “Hi, Erik. It's me again. Where are you? I came here because you said you were onto something, and then you vanish. Just, call me when you get this, okay? I’ll be with Darcy and, er--” “M’name’s ‘Ian’” “--Ian, checking out what I think is an anomaly. Come as soon as you can, okay?”

Jane puts her phone down with a quiet sigh. “Left then up ahead.” Says the intern. Darcy follows these instructions into some facility with a bunch of big metal storage boxes. “I bet Magneto would have a _great_ time here.” She grins, pulling the handbrake. “Darcy, we’re just gonna check it out, and then go. It’s probably a waste of time, anyway.” Jane says unenthusiastically.

“Come on, this is exciting!” Darcy insists as she gets out of the car. Jane looks unconvinced. The intern looks as if Christmas is coming early. “Look! The intern is excited!” She persists, waving a hand at him. “’Ian’.” He says with a nod.

“D’you want the phase meter?”

“No.”

“Bring the phase meter.”

Darcy throws the car keys at the intern and follows Jane, who is already exploring the area. “The toaster-looking thing.” She adds as she walks. “Yeah, I know what a phase meter is.” A disgruntled intern’s intern says quietly as he reaches into the car.

There are shipping containers, the huge ones, standing on their edges, another one stacked on top. How they got there, both women have no idea. “That is some Stone Henge shit going on there.” Darcy comments. “It’s this way!” The intern’s intern says, carrying the phase meter.

Jane has already wandered off a distance away. Darcy picks up her phone and dials Jane’s number. _Good thing I signed up for that infinite calls thing,_ she thinks as she holds the phone to her ear. A rap song plays from the receiver’s phone.

“How do I change the ringtone on this thing?” Jane mumbles, picking up.

“An astrophysicist with three degrees should be able to change her own ringtone.” The caller says. The scientist turns to her. “Why are you calling me?” She queries, looking at her intern, unamused. “I didn't want to shout. Intern says it's this way.” Darcy shrugs.

“‘Ian’. M’name is Ian.”

*****

After an encounter with a bunch of kids in a large garage on the facility, Darcy finds herself watching a bottle fall a few stories down, vanish into an invisible vortex, then fly back down from another invisible vortex above them, and then again and again. _This is some serious Portal 2 shit going on here._

“I want to throw something! Jane, give me your shoe.” Darcy says, excited by the strange disturbance in the space time continuum. Or at least in the space continuum. “Intern, gimme your—” She stops as she sees the flashy science device thing doing its flashy thing again. She picks it up from its place on the phase meter. “Jane?” She says tentatively. “Yeah?” Jane looks over from a lolly wrapper she is dropping. “Look.”

Jane reads the graphs and symbols quickly. “I haven't seen readings like this since...since…” “New Mexico?” Darcy finishes for her. Jane reaches for the device, but Darcy moves it away, saying: “Let _me_ check it out! I just learned how to read some of this stuff. I wanna test my skills!”

“Darcy, it’s better if—” “No, you could check all of this ‘anomaly’ stuff out with the intern--” “‘ _Ian_ ’.” “--while I get my science on.” Darcy insists. The scientist bites her lip, then glances at a plastic yoghurt cup flying through the air. “Okay, but if you find anything, call me, right?”

“Right,” Darcy says, already leaving the stairwell.

 _Aw, yiss. Finally doing somethin’ cool._ Darcy thinks, grinning broadly as she walks in the direction that the graphs direct. Her boots clop against the concrete floors and echo as the sound waves ricochet off of the walls of the seemingly endless hallways.

The place hadn’t looked so big from the outside.

The echoes from her footsteps and the beeps from the device soon become the only things that accompany her in the painstaking silence of the winding halls. _Have I gone too far? Am I lost?_ Darcy’s confident stride turns into a slow and hesitant walk as she stalks the indistinguishable corridors that lead seemingly nowhere.

Suddenly, the graph’s direction points to Darcy’s right, and she turns into a dark and murky entrance. “It does _not_ help that I just binge watched Supernatural this morning.” She says, voice cracked, into the emptiness. There is a door, or at least a doorway, at the end of the hall which leads to somewhere that is obscured by more darkness. _Great_. The dried-up leaves scattered beneath her begin to rustle, and the beeping of the device in her hands become faster; rushed, like her heartbeat.

“Um,” She whispers. The leaves begin to fly up, forming a small tornado of wind and leaves. Then, before she knows it, Darcy is being pulled by an unseen force towards the doorway. “Holy shit! Get the salt! Get the salt!” She shouts, still half-joking in this very, very serious moment. Her heels scrape against the gravel and she is tilted slightly backwards, her arms held out so that her body forms a cross as she attempts to balance to no avail.

She is pulled further and further down the corridor, but somehow the event was too dream-like for Darcy to flat out panic; truth be told, it is kind of fun. Being ghost-pulled into a dark room in an abandoned building? Pretty sweet for a conversation starter.

Even though, if there is a ghost, it will probably kill her as soon as she enters that room. _Not so sweet as a conversation starter. “Oh, hi, Pamela, have I told you about that one time a ghost pulled me into this room and killed me? Yeah, killer time, I had. Ayyy?”_ See? Not so sweet.

“Woaoah!” Darcy is thrown through the doorway—but not the doorway.

In a blink of one’s eye, the setting changes; in place of the dark room is an even darker room, with weird ruins of columns and roofs and rubble, all with intricately carved ancient little symbols on them. But it isn’t the weird ruins of columns and roofs and rubble all with intricately carved ancient little symbols on them that catches Darcy’s eye; there is only one thing that isn’t a variation of black in the very strange room, and that was all that she could keep her little focus on.

“What’re you doing here?” Darcy whispers in the darkness to the swirling red liquid. _Or is it plasma? Wait, what the hell is plasma? Man, that shit is confusing._ Darcy grimaces, trying to remember how this astronomy internship has anything to do with her political science degree.

“I guess, technically, it’s both science.” Darcy shrugs. The empty room gives Darcy freedom of spoken thoughts, since no one is here to judge her. Well, _hopefully_ no one is here to judge her. Her eyebrows knit together. Her body goes cold. _There might be someone—or some_ thing _—here with me right now_. A sinister chill makes the hair on the back of her neck shiver.

Then, Darcy does the stupidest thing in her life by far, aside from helping a god fight his jealous little brother (who is still alive, mind, and ready to kill all of his hunk of a brother’s allies at any current moment): she loudly, and shakily, says a ‘hello’.

Her greeting reiterates around the atmosphere, the simple word sounding more and more unsettling with each repetition, until the voice is surely no longer her own. _Ah, Shatner. I’m going to die here, aren’t I?_ Darcy takes a few long seconds to sigh pointedly at the sharp silence.

“Well, if you’re gonna kill me, make it quick. And awesome. It’ll be disappointing if I don’t at least get found in ten pieces or something.” Darcy offers. More silence. Darcy purses her lips, staring at the red substance nervously. It doesn’t have a particular smell, she finds; more like a burnt something, but she can’t determine exactly what. She squints at its swirling wisps and tails, trying to identify a particle or something sciency like Jane would undoubtly do. But it just looks like some stupid floating mist--like  _magic_. Darcy does not doubt this prediction.

She sighs one last time.

“Ah, what the hell. I’m gonna die one day, anyway.” She stretches out her arm towards the illuminating glow. “I mean, it’ll be a waste of all those entire years of study and everything, but I’m okay with tha--ah!”

She pulls away quickly, as if from fire, or from a shirt that she fancied at Topshop that turned out to cost seventy-nine dollars. The woman nurses her right hand, looking accusingly at the flameless fire. Then she looks at her hand.

“Balls!” Darcy says, fuming. There is something dark and red swimming under the skin of her arm, and this makes her excruciatingly mad. “ _I came out to have a good time and I am honestly feeling so attacked right now!_ ” She shouts to her arm. She can’t tell why this is making her so angry. She should be scared and screaming, after all.

Darcy grips her wrist until her fingernails dig beneath the skin and dots of blood begin to appear and grow. It hurts, it really does, but Darcy finds no desire to scream within her. She can feel a cold--or warm?--rush through her body, until she can’t fight the moan that she was suppressing.

Creepy science miracle thing number nine of the day: Darcy loses control of her body.

Well, not like the way she does when she’s having sex or falling off of a cliff, no. It is more like her blood is being pulled into a position the rest of her body decided not to comply with. Not complying evidently doesn’t work, however. The movement in her blood takes over, her wrists are forced to her sides, spread out like a dolphin mid-jump. Wait. Dolphins don’t have arms. Nevermind.

Her chest is thrust forward, chin pulled up, legs straightening from the crouch she had put herself into after her arm was invaded by the red liquid. It is a strange sensation. It is instant, but Darcy can feel every nerve that it picks at, and every movement that it makes in her body. Unlike being shocked with a taser, the shock eases through her system, and it feels like it is feeling, adapting to the pattern of her cells and the beat of her heart, and it moves along with her body’s mechanism swiftly, instead of blasting her with careless electricity.

It feels invasive, though. Like someone had opened up her abdomen and pushed some buttons, stuck some stuff in. Darcy’s mouth is opened, and a silent scream emitted. She doesn’t know how she can tell, but she knows that her eyes have gone black. Like a demon.

  
It ends, as always, in darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew. Was that bad? Oh gosh, I hope it's okay. I enjoy constructive (CONSTRUCTIVE) criticism, since I suck and advice would help me heaps. I'll probably take three thousand years to write the next chapter, unless I know that people actually read it .-. Hrm. Anyway, Clara out! Boom.


	2. Viridescent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So get this.  
> Darcy Lewis, death by intern's intern attack hugs, red plasma liquid thingy, invisible umbrellas, Thor McThunder, blasty things, uninvited guests, "necessary" touching, hot damn Keeper of Realms, floating fairy dust, rude-ass Kings, and haunting green eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yoooo! What is this, three years late? Sorry! First there was camp, then there was exams, then there was sitting upside down not wanting to move forever, but here it is! The next chapter! I was gonna write seven (GoogleDoc) pages but I accidentally ten. I'm not good at maths sometimes, see. Anyway! More reading? Thank you for all of your lovely comments! I didn't think anyone would ever want to read this. But I love it, I love writing it. I love spending all of my Functional Design classes writing this instead of doing my work, I really do. Functional Design sucks, anyway. (Don't tell my teacher that). Have fun reeeeeadinnggggg!  
> (CLEARING THINGS UP: Italics is Darcy's thoughts entirely [mostly]. Yes, she speaks in third person sometimes and refers to herself by name. The narration part, though it's in third person, also reflects some of Darcy's thoughts sometimes. Sort of like Darcy's conscience doing a voiceover of her story. So ye.)

“Jane! Jane, holy shit, I’m alive, how long have I been?” Darcy is shaking wildly, like a puppy caught in the rain. She had awoken in one of the ground floor’s empty rooms, and had run outside immediately to check what year it was. “Darcy, where have you been? We thought the anomaly took you!” Jane runs to Darcy, looking like she had recently suffered a severe panic attack. She is shaking, too, but not as much as Darcy.

 _Confirmation that it’s still 2013, at least_.

“How long have I been?” She repeats, looking at the grey cloud-filled sky, confused. “Hours! We were looking everywhere for you. Where have you _been?_ ” Jane exclaims. “Um…” Darcy doesn’t want to lie to Jane, she really doesn’t, but her heart is still beating out of her chest and she isn’t in the mood to answer the million questions Jane would no doubt throw at her.

“I got lost,” She says quietly. “For two hours?” Jane looks more shocked than suspicious, thank the gods. “Um, yeah...big place,” It’s easy to lie, anyway. Darcy has had loads of practice throughout the course of her life, “anyway, if I was gone two hours, why didn’t you call the police?” That question was not a lie, at least.

“...Um...well...Darcy...we had a stable gravitational anomaly… And the police means Feds, and next thing you know, we’ve got S.H.I.E.L.D. at our heels area fifty-one-ing the place. And then--” “And then no more science? You risked my life for science?” Darcy isn’t even angry, just humoured. “We were really worried, though! I said that if we still didn’t find you after dark, we’d call--” “DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARCYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!!!”

A weight slams into her, and she is tackled to the ground, dropping the phase metre she didn’t know was in her hand. “Woah! What the f--” “Darcy, I was so worried! Are you okay? What happened? Did you find anything?” Ian looks happier than a kid on Christmas day. Also as unchill as a bull seeing red.

“Calm down, intern! Gerrof me,” She pushes him off and bounces back up. The intern’s intern grins broadly, and Darcy can’t deny that he isn’t at least a little cute and dorky as he smiles. She beams back at him. “Come on, let’s get back to the car before something weirder hap--”

A blast of wind pushes at Darcy’s cheek, joined by a whooshing noise.

“That must be Thor.” She says jokingly, still heading for the car. “Not funny, Darcy.” Jane says sternly, before turning away. However, mid-turn, Jane stops dead. Her jaw drops like an anvil from the sky. “Huh, what’s -- oh hot diggity damn.” Darcy’s jaw drops, too. It is really Thor. After about a zillion times teasing Jane about it, the gust of wind and obnoxious whistling actually amounts to something real.

Jane runs to Thor. _Convenient time to ignore the Darcy and get all up in the Thor again._ Darcy sighs and turns to her intern. He stares at Thor like he’s about to pee himself from excitement. “Chill, it’s just the Norse god of Thunder.” She smirks at him. “It’s-it’s him. It’s Thor.” He looks close to tears. _Poor fanboy_.

A sharp slapping sound comes from the far direction of Jane and Thor, shortly followed by another. Then Thor looks briefly up at Darcy, his steely gaze piercing her through. _Um, whaaat? Jane, tell me you didn’t tell Thor about my casual MIA’ing._ Whatever had happened back there, Thor would probably not like it, and as much as Darcy likes Thor, she hates having to explain stuff to people. And the thing, as big as it is, is something Darcy feels the need to keep a secret.

Thunder claps.

She runs to the couple, nevertheless excited to see the glorious-haired god. “Hey there,” she grins at the two. She had clearly ruined a moment. _Give Jane payback for letting me die for science? Check._ Thor nods to her. “Darcy Lewis,” he acknowledges. “Thor McThunder,” Darcy beams.

“Wait, what’re you doing here?” Jane asks, realising the oddity of the occurrence. The god looks solemnly at the astrophysicist. “Heimdall saw you at a convergence. You were worried, and the worry bore over me. What troubles you, Jane?” Thor’s voice is as deep and beautiful as Darcy had remembered. _Dayum, son of Odin_. Wait, but Thor had asked Jane about what had happened to worry her. _Dayum son of Odin, but in a bad way._

“Darcy disappeared for two hours. And did you call it a convergence? The gravitational anomaly? I was studying it, and Darcy was following the signal to it and she got lost.” Jane blurts, talking too fast. Thor turns to the woman in question once more. “Lady Darcy, what has happened to keep you hidden from Jane for such a time?”

“Uhhh,” Darcy wants to melt into the ground and die. _Don’t tell him. Secret. Keep the secret._ But Darcy has no reason to keep anything from Thor. Her head says yes but her heart says _Darcy, what the fuck are you doing like srsly wtf._

“I--nothing.” She lies. A bad lie. But she can’t blame herself for her flustered attitude; he is a god, after all. But this is more than being a little flustered. This is fear. A strange, irrational fear of the uttering of a secret that she has no reason to keep from the god that is meant to protect.

“Lady Darcy, if there is anything you have to say…” Thor says kindly, putting a hand on her shoulder. But before his hand can fully rest on her shoulder, he is blasted away in a flash of red. _HOLY FUCKING SHITMONGERS._ Jane screams and runs to Thor, and Darcy takes a step back, stumbles, and falls. “Thor! Thor, what happened, are you alright?” Jane kneels by him, worrying him over. Darcy tries to say something -- anything, but all she can do is shiver from the cold. It is only then that she realises that it is raining. But not on her.

She looks around herself, sees the rain hammering down at all sides, but not on her. She is completely dry. “Wh-what…” she whimpers, realising that there is a large circle miraculously shielded from the rain. A circle that she is in the centre of.

Jane moves her focus to her. Darcy can see the confusion in her eyes, the gears putting two and eight together. _Ten out of ten, Darcy Lewis, useless intern, lies to her boss. The public is aghast._

“Darcy…”

“Jane…”

_“Darcy…”_

“Jane, I can explain!” Darcy runs to the soaked woman, the first droplets of water to fleck her cheeks not belonging to the rain. “Darcy…” Jane stands up slowly and, with a look of concern and care and worry and fear, tentatively puts a soft hand on Darcy’s shoulder, where Thor had. She isn’t blasted away. “Jane…” Darcy still shivers, from fear this time, instead of cold.

“We need to get you checked up. I’ll call Erik.” Jane says finally, scanning her with a hurried gaze. Jane looks both worried and intrigued, but for the first time, the worry wins over. “Jane, I went to this dark, dark place,” Darcy lets out, the tears now rushing down and heating her face, “there was this red plasma liquid thing, and it touched me. It went _into_ me. It’s inside of me, Jane, I’m scared.”

Darcy looks like a puppy that has done something wrong. She is hopelessly helpless, and helplessly hopeless, without any snarky comment or smart remark to hide her pain this time. Jane bites her lip. “You need to get checked up, Darcy. I’m worried for you. This could be magic.” Thor had been standing there the entire time, recovered from the blast already, but only reacts to the key word “magic”.

“Jane, if this is a matter of magic--” “You need to take her. Take her to Asgard. Heal her. Do everything you can. Please.” Jane is crying, too. Her words become whispers. Thor nods softly. “Darcy Lewis,” he says, turning to her and reaching out.

But Darcy backs away. “No, I’ll hurt you again!” She says shakily. “Lady Darcy, I assure you, I will be fine.” Thor says, not assuring her very well. She shakes her head, her eyes now seeing in a heavy blur from the hot tears that cloud them.

He reaches for her, but she continues to move away. She can feel red bubbling in her veins now. She feels angry. _So angry._ Her head spins, momentum fueled by mad anger. _Why can’t he just leave me alone!_ Darcy thinks over and over again.

“Darcy…”

Jane’s eyes go wide, and Darcy finds her hands held up, like a witch charging her laser or something.

Creepy science miracle thing number twelve of the day (after Jane choosing Darcy over science and Thor coming out of nowhere): Darcy’s hands hover below two orbs of writhing red plasma liquid.

 _Fuckity ducks._ She tries to shake the thing away, but they follow her hands, and she can sense that the essence surrounds her. “I didn’t do that on purpose, I swear.” She says quickly, her eyes flicking from one to the other rapidly. She casts a quick glance over to Ian, who turns out to have fainted. _Goddammit, Ian._

“Darcy, we must bring you to Asgard.” Thor says. “Um, that sounds like a bad idea.” Darcy replies in a shrill voice.

“You are dangerous here.”

“I dunno, man, I’m pretty sure throwing magic and magic together creates explosions.”

“Lady Darcy, Asgard can help you.”

“Um, no.”

“Darcy, listen to Thor.”

“Um, _no._ ”

“Come, now, Darcy Lewis”

“Um, _NO_.”

Darcy brandishes her hands like a baseball bat. “Come close, I’ll blast your ass back to Asgard myself. I’m only going to ruin everything there. And if you touch me, I’ll hurt you again.” She insists. Thor looks at Darcy gravely, bowing his head and stepping back. “If I cannot take you, I will...send an escort.”

“Wait, what? Escort? That sounds bad. Jane, is he going to fetch a minotaur to come and drag me there?” Darcy says, actually worried for once. Jane looks at Darcy like she is the camera in _The Office_. “Darcy, minotaurs are Greek mythology.” She says, deadpan. “Well...the Norse equivalent of a minotaur!” Darcy retorts.

“I assure you, Darcy Lewis, no harm will come to you. Lady Sif will be your escort, and if not she, Fandral will be.”

“That rhymes.”

“I will return.” Thor assures. _(That rhymes, too.)_ And with that, Thor Supermans out of the scene.

She could feel herself calming down, and the plasma liquid disappears from her hands. She falls. “Darcy!” Jane rushes to catch her, and it’s truly quite comforting to have someone who usually chooses science over human lives to care for you.

*****

Her escort does not arrive until well after dark.

Jane stays with her the entire wait. They are huddled against each other, backs pressed against the car door, bitterly thinking about Ian throwing the keys into the portal (Jane had found contentment in calling it a “convergence”, though). Ian is still passed out, but now passed out and curled next to one of the wheels of the hatchback when the expected escort comes. But instead of the dashing Fandral or actual actual goddess Lady Sif coming to fetch Darcy on her trip to fairyland, Darcy finds herself staring at someone she most definitely does _not_ want to see.

“What the actual fuck?” She can’t stop herself from saying. Darcy stares, wide-eyed, at the tall, thin figure. Bright green eyes stare back. She knows all too well who this is. And she’s not at all happy with this knowledge. Out of _all_ people-- “Darcy Lewis,” the figure snickers with a predator grin.

“Loki,” the woman replies indignantly. Jane is sound asleep beside her, and she doesn’t want to wake her up, but this ridiculous mistake needs yelling to be amended. She stands up, carefully moving Jane so that her head leans against the car. She removes her coat and puts it around Jane before turning back to Loki. “What are you doing here?” Darcy demands. The grin widens. “Fear not, dear maiden; Thor sends me.”

He is ridiculing her. _What a fucking dickbitch._ “If you’re going to kill me, just do it now. I’m not in the mood for fucking games.” Darcy says tiredly. “I assure you, Darcy Lewis, I have no interest in your pathetic mortal ‘fucking games’.” He says smoothly. She fights her urge to be amused at a Norse god spitting profanity.

“How are you here, anyway? I thought you were in magic prison or something.”

“That is not of import, mortal. Thor advised we make haste.”

“I don’t want to make anything with you. You’re a monster!”

“And a monster who is about to rip your mortal intestines out and force you to eat them if you don’t come now.”

Darcy rolls her eyes, trying to hide the fact that he is probably the first person to ever have had the last word with her. _Wait, no, I’m not going to let him have the last fucking word!_ Darcy yells furiously in her head. She calms. “Ask nicely.”

“Would you like a blanket and a kiss with that?” He mocks. _The blanket would be nice…_ The wind cuts at her face once again. “I might just rip out _your_ intestines and eat them.” She contemplates aloud. “You are welcome to try, of course, mortal. If you can manage to come close enough without your limbs falling off.”

“I know how to do more than you think.”

“Is that a challenge, Darcy Lewis?”

“Take Jane and me to Asgard.”

“If you insist. But I’m only taking one.”

“Take Jane first.”

“I am not taking Thor’s pathetic mortal lover. I am only taking you.”

“Hey, Jane’s not pathetic, you estranged kitten!”

 _Estranged kitten? Really, Darcy? Really?_ She tries to stand by her insult with confidence, without much success. Loki laughs. A cold, villainous, deep chuckle that sends chills down Darcy’s spine. She struggles to keep up her confident persona.

“Come.” He walks over to her, not about to take “no” for an answer. But Darcy isn’t about to just give yes for an answer because he’s a god. Yes, yes, he can kill her any second, but Darcy is beyond angry at this point. Convergences, dark liquidy magic, Norse gods with daddy issues...it is becoming all too much for one day. “Ask. _Nicely_.” Darcy says slowly, as if explaining it to a child. Loki reaches for her, but she moves away. “I will fucking taser you like I did your brother.”

There is a gleam in his eyes, and a twitch of a smile, but other than that, Loki stays cold. “Do not threaten me with your silly Midgardian toys, you misbegotten scut.” But Darcy can tell that the look in his eyes means something else. “Ask me nicely to go with you.” She says one last time.

Loki’s eyes narrow for a split second, as if he is trying to figure something out. In this case, that something is Darcy. His eyes try to calculate her features, her morals, thoughts, ideas...nothing adds up in Loki’s mind about Darcy. Yet there is something about her that makes him feel...annoyed beyond belief. He gives up. Just a little.

“Lady Darcy, of Midgard, I formally enquire your company on our rendezvous to Asgard. Come now.” Loki puts his arms around her, and welcomes himself into her personal bubble, pressing her body against his. _God of invading personal space, more like._ _Oh wait, wasn’t he a Frost Giant? Wait, am I even supposed to know that or does the Marvel Cinematic Universe not accept that the current knowledge in Norse mythology in the real world today is also available here? Wait, I gotta stop being self-aware. Goshdarnit._

There is a really cool whooshing noise.

It feels like being in an elevator, but one going a gazillion miles a second. Like falling, but upwards. Like being yanked upwards by a string. Fun, but not fun at the same time. Darcy doesn’t blame herself for holding Loki tighter from fear of slipping away and being launched into space without oxygen.

There is a green blur as they move. An aurora of green light, a breathtakingly beautiful display as Darcy is pulled further and further from the safety of earth. But then again, what safety is there on earth that could beat being in the arms of a god? _(Don’t mention the Frost Giants or Marvel will cut you out of the franchise, Darcy)._

“I hate to be the one to say this,” Darcy says, a little unevenly, “but, um, are we there yet?” Loki smiles lightly, still evil and hungry like his usual grin. His arms are tight around her waist, and she can hear his soft heartbeat. She puts her cheek to his chest (for safety, obviously), and his chin rests on her head. If he wasn’t such a mad reindeer supervillain, Darcy might just have enjoyed this moment.

When they reach ground, Loki immediately shoves her away from him and stalks off quickly.

Darcy shrugs, offended but relieved. “ _Somebody_ didn’t have breakfast,” She remarks. _Wait. Me neither. Shit._ She is about to walk casually away, too, but then the realisation that there is nowhere to walk away to hits her, and she almost falls off of the rainbow road. “Holy shit!”

Holy shit, indeed. The bridge goes on for miles, and around it is nothing but space. Yes, _space_. An endless starry oblivion that leads to certain death. Well, for mortals, anyway. _Mortals. Horrible word._ On one side of the road is a city that seems to have been launched out of a dream Darcy had once. Everything is glowing with perfection, and promises of magic waft through the land. _Or floating land. Whatever._

On the other side, there is what looks to be a giant, golden metallic puffskein with a mohawk. _Bifröst,_ Darcy says in her head. Since Loki had so happily abandoned her upon arrival, she decides to do the tourist thing and visit the airport--loading dock--rematerialising station--nyeh thing?

She tip-toes over, extremely cautious in case a minotaur jumps out of a star or something, despite Jane saying that there were no minotaurs in the realm. She steps inside. It’s cold, but in a cool way, and Darcy likes the calmness of this world.

“Welcome, to Asgard.” A deep voice says. It echoes against the walls, but in a strong-arms-holding-you-softly kind of way instead of an eerie reminder of solitary. Darcy turns to the source of the voice. _Fuckk, he’s hot._ It is Heimdall, no doubt. He is dressed in all-gold armour, in the centre of the room and holds a golden sword that is set in a golden sheath.

His eyes, of course, are golden. But not some honey-eyed preppy, no. They are rimmed with jagged black, and Darcy finds that she could probably stare into them for eternity and hope for nothing more. Except she can’t, because she has to answer, as to not be rude to the god.

“Um, hi. Are you, um--”

“Yes, I am Heimdall.”

“Keeper of the worlds. I’ve read a lot about you. You’re awesome.”

He smiles. A warm, genuine smile that says that everything in the world is totally awesome and not totally war-infested and tragic.

“You must be Darcy Lewis of Midgard. Companion of Jane Foster.”

She nods, too breathless to do anything else. _He knows my name, oh my sweet Odin ass._ “This is the, um, Bifröst, right?” She asks tentatively. Heimdall nods, “This is where Asgardians come to travel the Nine Realms.” Darcy stops and finally lets herself get smothered by the wonder of the new world. She sighs with content, her eyes scanning the room.

“You must have a really _golden_ time around here, dontcha?” Darcy jokes. Her humour is beginning to come back, at least. Heimdall apparently doesn’t get the joke. “Actually, I prefer to spend my time watching the realms. It is intriguing.”

“Hey, are you doing anything tomorrow n--”

“Darcy Lewis!”

“ _Thor,_ ” _Here ruinin’ my date, I see._

“Where is Loki? I asked of him to wait with you.”

“Oh, yeah, Loki. He ran off. Why’d he come, anyway? I thought he was in Azkaban.”

Thor looks down. “Father has been watching the movements of the Bifröst recently. I thought it wiser to not take it at all, with the least disrespect to Heimdall.” Heimdall nods at that. “Oh. Wait, Loki doesn’t take the Asgard teleporter?” Darcy asks, surprised.

“No,” says Thor, “Loki...Loki has his own methods of travel.”

“Wait, and no one ever decided to check out exactly how he does that? That could mean a whole new way of travel if the Bifröst breaks again. Seriously, why is no one looking into this?!”

Heimdall and Thor stare at her like she had just stripped naked in front of them; shocked, and slightly disgusted. Darcy blinks. “Um, sorry. Political science thing. I, uh, thing.” She murmurs. Thor blinks.

“Let us find the healers, Darcy Lewis.” Thor says abruptly, placing a hand on the small of her back. She nods vigorously and walks with him.

*****

“Is that floating fairy dust or am I just fucking high?” Darcy says, giggling uncontrollably. She probably is high, but the floating fairy dust was also real. _I mean, it’s probably not called fairy dust, but y’know what I mean._

“It’s a Soul Forge,” says one of the Asguardian healers. They are all fussing about, tapping the fairy dust bits like they are touch screens in some sci-fi movie. Darcy is lying on a hard table as they stand around her. She doesn’t like being tested for some mythical disease.

“Yup. Floating fairy dust. Hey, Thor, can I go now? I think I’m perfectly fine. Look, I’m standing--” Darcy attempts to sit up, but is immediately pushed back down by a healer. “Stay still,” she says softly. “Darcy, you must rest.” Thor says.

“I’m fine, I swear!” A lie. “I’m not some ticking time bomb. I won’t go off at any second.” Another lie. “I’ll be fine. I feel better already! No weird red stuff coming outta me except for in my ova--” “My words are mere noises to you that you ignore them completely?!” _Odin._

“Yooooo,” says Darcy.

Odin looks at her as if she is a pebble in his shoe. Golden King of Asgard shoe, or whatever his brand of footwear is. “She is mortal. She does not belong here in Asgard any more than a goat belongs to a banquet table.” He says in a voice deeper than Thor’s. “Um, wow, rude.” Darcy says, looking offended.

“She is ill.”

“She is mortal. Illness is their defining--”

“Um, ex _cuuuuse_ me. You compared me to a goat!”

“Mortal, you have no say in th--”

“I’m at least, like, a sheep or something! _Yeah_ , King of Asgard, _yeah,_ you could kill me with a snap of your fingers, _yeah_ , I’m fucking scared of you, but also, _yeah,_ I’m very fucking angry right now. Don’t call me a goat. Don’t call me a fucking mortal. My name is Darcy Lewis and I’m from New Mexico. I’ve had a very bad fucking day and I am in _no_ mood to deal with your bullshit.”

Darcy doesn’t know where all of that came from. Yes, she thought up what she said in her head, but she never intended to utter a single word of it. She is scared of Odin. Hell, she respects the guy. Protector of the realms. Father of Thor. But something keeps nagging at the back of her head saying _I’m angry, angry, angry._ She doesn’t know if this newfound rage and confidence is a good thing or not.

All of the people in the room stare at her in utter shock. _She scolded Odin! A mere mortal!_ Thor’s eyes are wide in stupor. “She is daring, for a...Midgardian.” Odin says, sounding both surprised and impressed. “Is she an ally of Jane Foster?”

Thor nods. “Yes, father. She is both friend and…” “Intern,” Darcy offers, breathless from her fume. Odin fully recovers from the scolding, and puts his rude-ass hat on again. “No matter. She is mortal. Her world has its healers, they’re called ‘doctors’, let them deal with it.”

“Guards, take her back to Midgard.”

“No,” Darcy says, like an offended upper class party host with a glass of champagne in her hand snapping at someone about to swipe a piece of the four hundred dollar cake with their finger.

“Mortal, you have no--”

“No! No. Stop. I’ve had enough. If you keep treating me like trash, I will tase you.” She says fearlessly, her fists balled with rage. She feels a cold warmth in her hands, a comforting surge of power, and sneaks a look at them in the middle of her staring contest with Odin. _Shit._ She had gone all Powerful Sorceress and her hands are surrounded with flames. _No, not flames._ Magic red plasma liquid stuff. Odin glances at her hands, too. “...or that.” She adds, compromising.

“What is she?” Says the King.

“Father, there is something within her. Something I have not seen before… A sort of infection.”

“Impossible,” Odin says, staring at her. “‘Impossible’ is the right word.” She mutters. She closes her eyes and tries to think peaceful thoughts --cats in places they shouldn’t be-- and lowers her hands, which miraculously ditch the red as her anger dies down.

“She can control the power?” Odin asks. He seems confused. “Well, I mean, when I’m angry it does that itself. Thinking about cats helps.” She offers. Odin furrows his brow. “Cats?” “Well, yeah. It’s cute when they get stuck in places they shouldn’t be. Like, there’s this one picture on the Internet of a cat in the ceiling, and…” She trails off. _They don’t care, Darcy_. She tells herself. _Their livelihood doesn’t depend on the Internet like yours._

“Come with me.” Odin says decisively.

“Um, where? Can’t I stay here? I wanna stick with, um, I think her name was Eir?”

“Come now.”

“No.”

“Mortal, my order is no mere request--”

“No. No. How many times do I have to say this? How many times do I have to get mad? No. I’m not going to ‘come now’, like, what are you, that guy I met two weeks ago in the music store? No. I’m not going to follow orders. No. I’m not going to stand down and let you have your way. So whatever, knock me out and levitate me there instead, ‘cause I sure as Hell not going to do it mys--”

Odin takes her suggestion and issues a blast at her. _Shit. I didn’t mean--_ The blue blast is deflected, and blasts back out. A few guards are knocked over, but Odin still stands strong, mostly unphased. He looks like he had been bored all of this time, but is now suddenly interested. Alert, but not worried. He raises his sceptre and out comes a laser beam.

 _HOLY SHIT PLEASE NO._ Darcy raises her arms to shield herself. A strange sensation takes over...like the world had been dunked into some jello and everything is slow, loud but blurred, and she feels as if she has tapped into something she probably should not have. She peeks through her left eye to see the King, slightly more determined look on his face, casually trying to blast her to smithereens, blue laser beam still rushing at her. Then she sees her hands. _Magic red plasma liquid thingy!_

As opposed to Odin’s simple, straight beam, Darcy’s defense is still in a liquidy form, twisting simply as it wraps around the laser, covering it, trying to take over, trying to eat in the power. Darcy’s heart beats a million, trillion, Brazillion miles a second. _No, no, no, please, no, why me, why. Oh gods…_ She struggles to keep her hands strong. She breaks.

Darkness again. _Hello darkness, my old friend._ A rush of liquid rushing back into her body. An ice-like pierce through every nerve. Darkness, darkness. _The darkness is your friend, sweetie. Don’t be afraid of the dark…_ She sees nothing. But for the slightest second, right before she slips into the arms of unconsciousness, she sees a grin. A grin and a pair of laughing green eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp. That wasn't too bad, was it? It was? Darnit. Foiled again in my attempt to do the write thing. I WILL UPDATE FASTER! I PROMISE! I'll try for two weeks max, and my goal is one and a half weeks. Setting realistic goals, at least!  
> Please, please, please leave a comment? It makes my day and I love every single person who comments!  
> Oh, oh, oh! If you're super annoyed with my late updates, I write these chapters entirely in GoogleDocs, so you could read without any necessary account-making via [this link](https://docs.google.com/document/d/1H5AHCq_gZBO9OZydQaF3n4vlyRgswb6wTEYKKCzQgP4/edit?usp=sharing)  
> I hope that works!


	3. Blitzkrieg

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So get this:  
> Awesome Queens of Asgard, bath-time crashing kittens, bubble beards, pretty dresses, metamorphagi, Generic Asguardian Soldier #2, serious Sherlock balcony-talk, Dark Elf gossip, Frigga sass, attack on the palace, Malekith vs. Darcy, and comical sound affects!  
> I can't see how this could go wrong at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is at least thirty years, eight months, and two weeks late.  
> God fucking dammit. I hate myself. Have you all given up on me??? ;A; I have failed as a writer  
> I am so goshdarn knick knack paddy wack pineapple slap extinct cat sorry. I experience writer's block and laziness 87% of my entire life. My tales pay the price.  
> I'm sorry this is such a crappy chapter too, in advance. Not much happens and I'm disappointed in meself. I hope this serves its purpose while I launch myself at my laptop screen and try to write more consistently.
> 
> Please don't give up on meh D:

“You guys really didn’t have to knock me out so hard, y’know.” Says the barely-awake Midgardian, slumped on an Asgardian bed in a guest chamber. She props herself up with an arm, too tired to rely on any other part of her body to support herself.

“Odin does only what is necessary. You are unwell, Darcy. He worries. We all worry for you.” Says Frigga. Frigga had been sitting beside her when Darcy had awoken moments before, and Darcy finds it easy to make conversation with her.

“Was it really that necessary to kick my butt so hard? I’m only _mortal_ , after all.” She says irritably. “You are anything but a mere mortal, Darcy. The Aether is meant to succeed any vessel it takes. You survived. Conquered the power, even. That is no feat of any normal being.”

Darcy likes the fact that Frigga calls her a being instead of a mortal. “I didn’t conquer it,” she says, being honest, “I couldn’t control it completely when Odin lasered my sorry ass. I lost control. I broke.”

Frigga smiles. “You are modest, Darcy. But you were able to hold the Aether and use its power, and that is beyond anything anyone but you could have hoped to achieve.” Darcy feels herself bubble up inside with butterflies of appreciation.

“Thanks,” She says slowly, shyly.

“Well, now,” The Queen of Asgard says, standing, “You need get yourself cleaned up. A bath, change of clothes, Darcy, and you’ll be fit to feast.” She smiles to a door branching out from the chamber. “I will send someone to lead you to Thor or to me.”

Frigga leaves with a backwards grin.

Darcy grumbles unintelligibly to herself as she forces her body off of the comfort of the Asgardian bed. She waddles to the door Frigga had directed her to, and takes a breath before pushing it open.

 _Woah_.

*****

“Dammit, why do we not have one of these on Earth?” Darcy sighs, relaxed, as she submerges herself deeper into the bubbly warm water of the enormous magical Asgardian bathtub. She grins to herself, the water heating itself to the right temperature as she moves. _I can get used to this._

The bathroom is the whole five-star hotel she-bang: bigger than her entire old apartment,  more intimidating shining white than in a toothpaste commercial, and as perfect as Thor’s arms. _Mmm._

_A sudden shift in light._

“Oh, well, hello.” Darcy says, a little sleepily, offended at the new appearance but open to new ideas. _Wait_. It’s Loki. _Again_. Loki takes a moment before he realises that he had just Apparated into an occupied bathroom, and turns away quickly, flushed and embarrassed, before Darcy can scream.

“I-I did not know you were...busy...mortal.” He says, stuttering badly. _Where’d all the godness go, hey?_ Darcy tries not to laugh. “I got that far. Didn’t take you for a Peeping Tom. What the bloody hell are you doing here?” She says, grinning at his back.

“Mother asked me to lead you to the dining hall. She did not notify me of the--inconvenience.” He says, speaking in short bursts of awkwardness. Darcy likes this new Loki -- scared and shy, blabbing out words of explanation. Weird and funny.

“What, never seen a nude person before?” Darcy says challengingly, finally letting out a chuckle. “Well -- yes -- but...in different circumstances...consensual...not unplanned.” He begins to mumble, trailing off a bit.

Darcy sighs, smiling, and makes a move to stand up in the tub. The outside world is cold. Distant. _Nah_. She lays back down, and starts giving herself a bubble beard instead. “Hey, you can turn around now.” She says with a grin. She covers her right eye with a hand.

Loki turns, naive and unwary Loki, and sees her, bubble beard and body conveniently covered by more bubbly bubbleness. He twitches, about to turn back around, but her new beard startles him enough to make him stay.

“Hi, I’m King of Asgard, Protector of the Realms, and also huge fucking jerkwad. I’m going for Jerkwad of the Century this year.” Darcy says in her best Odin-voice. Loki tries not to chuckle. “Very funny, _mortal_. If Odin ever hears hint of this, that would be the end of you.” He says.

“Then I guess it’ll just be between you and me, hey?” She says with a light shrug.

“Well, wouldn’t that be quaint. Keeping secrets with a mortal.”

“I’m still naked, y’know.”

*****

Darcy slips on the smooth green-gold dress that was sitting near the bathtub. It’s heavy, but surprisingly comfortable and easy to move in. She likes this dress. Attaching metal vambraces on her wrists in front of the mirror, she wonders if she will be allowed keep the dress. Or if her favourite coat (removed to help her be unconscious but not uncomfortable) will be returned to her at the end of the day.

And then it hits her. _It hasn’t even been a full day_. Asgard is still full of light, differentiating to the dark clouds back in London, though she isn’t sure what time zone Asgard operates in. But there’s one thing for sure: all of those forty-seven creepy science miracle things had happened in the space of less than twenty-four hours. That’s like...two every hour. Except it was probably less than twenty-four hours. Except that maths is something that Darcy has no time for at this moment. She joins the clasps of a silver serpentine necklace around her neck. She puts her taser in an invisible pocket. _Ready to slay._

Loki is waiting in her room, having teleported away to give her some privacy (though Darcy had already administered that he wasn’t very big on giving people any).

“You look ravishing, mortal.” He says airily. She can’t tell if he’s kidding or not.

“Because when do I not?” She jokes, just in case.

“Evidently when you are battling Odin, you look more deadly than ravishing.”

“What. You--you were there?” Darcy can’t really process this. She thought she was alone, give a healer or two and a Thor. It’s hard not to feel embarrassed for some reason.

He grins, eyes laughing. “Don’t be too taken aback; ravishing is not the only enticing quality in this world. You were quite excitable back there...gamesome. Not many have fought Odin and survived.”

 _Those eyes. That smile._ She can’t decipher where she knows it from, and it bothers her.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” Darcy says.

Without further ado, she and Loki begin to make their way out of the chamber and through the high-ceilinged halls. As they make a turn, Darcy hears incoming footsteps and the quiet chink of armour. She wonders for a second if Loki is meant to be here.

She turns to ask him. “Um, Lokes, should you be -- oh. Um.” In place of Loki is Generic Asgardian Soldier #2. “Howdy,” Darcy says, feeling unsure and awkward. _Is this Loki or who, and if it is Loki, am I supposed to introduce myself again, or…_

They pass the soldiers, and as they do, the man beside her (Loki?) turns to look at her, and for a second, his brown eyes flash a bright green (Loki.)

When they are out of range of the passers, Loki swiftly grabs her by the waist and snatches her up into a balcony. A very pretty balcony with a very pretty view. He transfigures back into his estranged kittenish self.

“So, can you, like, transform into anyone-anyone?” Darcy asks, trying to cover her curiosity with casualty. “Yes, I can.” Loki replies just as casually. Darcy takes in this information in as chill a manner as she can. “Like, into _anyone_ , like, shoot, Captain America, or, whatever...y’know…”

“Yes, I can.” Darcy stares at him for a bit.

“So what are you doing later?”

Loki chuckles. Warmly, fully. “I’m going to be saving all of the pathetic Asgardian souls.” He says, though with only eighty-nine per cent of his usual malice.

“Saving everyone?” She smirks. “Are you really sure you’re ready for this kinda change, Loki?” Darcy asks in a mock concerned-psychologist voice.

“Yes,” he says smoothly, easily, “I am.”

“And what exactly are you saving everyone’s asses _from_ , hey?” Darcy is genuinely interested. And also trying to test Loki’s sanity.

“The so-called ‘infection’ in your body,” he begins calmly, “Odin called it the ‘Aether’. I know what it is. An ancient relic of darkness, weaponised by the Dark Elves. It was believed to have been destroyed with the Elves. Obviously wrong.”

“So? Ancient relic. Another thing to put in the Asgardian Louvre. It’s not that... _bad_...is it?” She uses the term ‘bad’ for lack of a better word. Or rather, lack of the desire to make it sound as horrible as it could be.

“I assure you, Darcy Lewis, that it is. Odin is too bigoted to accept it, but if the Aether still survives, there is every chance that the Dark Elves are not extinct, after all. It is possible that even Malekith, King of the Dark Elves, is alive, also. And the Convergence is nearing. When the realms align, it would be the perfect time to release the Aether’s full might unto the Nine Realms. The Elves would rule unchallenged once more. So if the Elves are indeed alive, which they are, they will be coming for the Aether, Darcy; they will be coming for you.”

Darcy takes a breath. _Whaaaat?_ _Loki is definitely cray._ At least she hopes so.

“And Odin doesn’t believe any of this? He’s not preparing any resistance or--or emergency defense plans, or anything?” She says, panicked. “Odin is not very clever sometimes. He is too wrapped up in himself to realise trouble until it arrives at the palace gates, wrapped up in a bow.”

“Don’t let him hear you say that.” It’s Frigga.

“Frigga! Hi.” Darcy says quickly. She’s not sure if she’s thankful for the distraction or not.

“Darcy. I see you’ve met my son.” The Queen smiles warmly. “Loki, have you been--”

An alarm begins to blare, invading Darcy’s ears in a slow, constant rhythm, sounding like a DC movie trailer ( _don’t knock over the fourth wall, Darcy_ ). The trio listen to it for a few beats, their minds working with the warning.

“The prison.” Says Frigga.

“Thor.” Says Loki.

“Wait, wut.” Says Darcy.

Loki looks to Frigga, waiting for approval. She nods. “Go, help Thor, defend the prisons. I’ll watch over her. I believe in you, Loki.” Frigga says, her eyes locked with Loki’s in an exchange of deeper meaning. _She’s trusting him. I hope she’s sure about this._

“I will not fail you.” Loki takes a short glance at Darcy before he fades away.

*****

The Queen leads Darcy through the infinite halls of Asgard again, except now, it is loud and busy. Odin is instructing some people with instructions. _Send a squadron to the weapons vault, defend it at all costs. Seal the dungeon._

“Odin,”

“Frigga!” He turns to his wife, trying to wash his worried expression away for her. He nods briskly at Darcy, not rude yet dismissing.

“It’s a skirmish. Nothing to fear.” He assures.

“You’ve never been a very good liar.” Odin’s finally lets himself show a bit of worry.

“Take her to your chambers...” Darcy hears Odin say before her eyes move focus. She looks at the squadrons of Asgardians marching through the passages, and spots a familiar face. Lady Sif looks back at her for a brief moment, offering Darcy a kind smile. Darcy smiles back. _Damn she hot._

“...I’ll come for you when it’s safe.” Odin is saying to Frigga when Darcy turns back.

“Take care,” The woman says.

Odin smiles faintly, and reaches over to touch Frigga’s cheek. “Despite all I have survived, my Queen still worries over me.” He says with a gentle gaze. “It is only because I worry over you that you have survived.” She answers, smiling.

Darcy follows Frigga, and the Queen nicks a sword from a passing soldier. “Listen to me, now. I want you to do everything I ask, no questions.” She says in a hushed voice. “ _Got it_ ,” Darcy says, looking determined. The Mission Impossible theme plays in her head as background music.

*****

Frigga tells Darcy to stay in a concealed room near the back of the chamber as they wait it out. She stands by the room’s door quietly, hearing screams and crashes and things breaking -- pillars, people -- and Darcy has never felt so useless in her life.

She knows that she’s no use out there but she knows her life isn’t any more important than anyone else’s who is risking their life out there, risking it for everyone in Asgard, including her. She feels the need to fight.

Suddenly, she hears someone approach in the outside room. Frigga speaks: “Stand down, creature, and you may still survive this.” Darcy presses her ear to the wall and squeezes her eyes shut, straining to find out what is going on.

“I have survived worse, woman.” Says a voice.

“Who are you?”

“I am Malekith, and I would have what is mine.”

Darcy can hear sword sounds. Comical _clink!_ ing and _schling!_ ing.

“Ah!” _Frigga’s in trouble, Frigga’s in trouble!_ Darcy fails to think as she struggles with the door. _Open, open, open._ Footsteps. “You have something of mine, child. Give it back.” O _pen, open. Come on, come on, please._ “Witch! Where is the Aether?!” _Please. Please._ Darcy can feel tears at the corners of her eyes. “I’ll never tell.” _No. Open, open, open._

“I believe you.”

Darcy slams the door open, and almost falls over, door swinging, hand glued to doorknob. She gets up quickly, to see all three people -- Frigga, creepy darknessy guy (Malekith?), and equally darknessy oak behemoth dude -- turning their heads swiftly at her, synchronously. “Um.”

“The Aether,” Malekith says, dead eyes shining. The behemoth dude throws Frigga away and grabs Darcy firmly, sword at her back (she hopes it’s a sword). _Shit_. “Finally,” Malekith steps towards her. _Shit_. He raises his hand. _Darcy, do something!_

Her eyes are squeezed shut and she does the only thing she knows: she grabs her taser and hits the behemoth guy up with a fresh dose of electricity, long and hard. Malekith lays a hand on her arm, and then she realises that the shock will travel. _Uh oh._

Malekith jumps away. Behemoth jerks his arm and drops his sword. Darcy falls onto the floor, eyes wide with shock. “Mortal trickery!” The Elf King says in rage. He takes his sword. _Well. What a way to die_. Darcy can’t quite close her eyes at this moment, even though she didn’t want to see this...

 _CLANG!_ Something collides with Malekith’s face, but Darcy can’t move her eyes to see what. Then she hears movement, then a yell. Thor’s yell. Loki’s yell. Malekith’s sound of distaste and a _whoosh!_ as someone flies away. She can hear Thor running, and launching off somewhere.

She can hear Loki’s voice. “Mother,” he says, a vulnerable sound. “I am fine, Loki.” Darcy feels a weight shift off of her in relief. _She’s not gone, she’s not gone_. “Call the healers. And check on Darcy.” Frigga’s voice is soft, and hurt. Darcy hopes she is okay.

And that thought is perhaps the last thing that passes Darcy’s mind before she, once again, once again, drifts away into the realm of unconsciousness. And this time is almost no different at all. She can see, from the corner of her eye, Loki swooping down and kneeling over her, looking concerned. And the only thing that Darcy can see is his face -- his eyes, and his lips. The glow and laughter is gone, but it’s still there. The bright brilliant green.

And then Darcy’s vision is swamped with black.

*****

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok. So that was pre short. I am so sorry. I tried. Okay, so it was a pretty pathetic attempt at getting the story anywhere at all. It was just so horrible reading the transcript through 50 times and re-watching the same scene 98235684081834 times and I just got so hfkasjdhkfjdsh!ed. Pls spare me.
> 
> -Clara half-heartedly out


End file.
